


Dream World

by GirlKnownSomewhere



Category: The Monkees (Band), The Monkees (TV)
Genre: 1960s, Band Fic, Cute, Drinking, F/M, Ficlet, Flirting, Halloween, Holidays, One Shot, Partying, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 06:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21095279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlKnownSomewhere/pseuds/GirlKnownSomewhere
Summary: Ann gets invited to a costume party at Bert Schneider's house.





	Dream World

**Author's Note:**

> TBH, I'm not entirely happy with this one (I feel like I made Ann and Mike a little OOC and rushed the ending a bit). But I've been sitting on it for a while, so I figured I'd post it anyways, heh. Happy Halloweentime! 👻🎃
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Monkees, Raybert or Ann Moses' likeness.

One-shot: Dream World

Bel Air, October 1966

For the first time since junior high, Ann was anxiously excited for Halloween. Not only because she had created the perfect costume, but because she was going to a party with a lot of the celebrities she’d met in the past month. Two weeks ago when “The Monkees” showrunner Bert Schneider casually told her to stop by his holiday house party, she was elated. She was also a little shocked because she’d only been visiting the TV set for a few weeks. But then she started wondering if the guest list wasn’t exclusive. Either way, Ann was going to her first big showbiz event that didn’t involve work. And she loved hanging around everyone involved with the Monkees (except the guitarist, who still seemed to not pay her mind), so she was looking forward to seeing them offset. The costume she had in mind was Cinderella, but not the ballgown look everyone dresses in. The servant attire the princess wears in the first half of the Disney picture. 

Ann parked her car about a foot away from the nice Bel Air estate, and then briefly looked at her car mirror to check her minimal make-up and baby blue ribbon she placed half of her blonde hair into. She stepped out of the vehicle in a long-sleeved blue top, brown pullover dress that stopped at her knee, black flats and a slightly ripped kitchen apron over it all. 

“Are you a servant?” Davy asked her as they were both still lingering by the front door of Bert’s house.

“Yeah…but specifically a famous one…”

“Jane Eyre?”

Ann’s brow crinkled. “No…you’re off by 200 years. And Jane was a governess…”

Davy just shrugged in his pirate costume.

“Cinderella,” she revealed.

“Why didn’t you wear the dress? Everyone would’ve recognized it.”

“Because everyone does the dress…” Ann answered, trying not to frown.

“Maybe you should’ve added some soot to your face,” Micky suddenly suggested as he walked by in a Tarzan cloth and tapped her nose. _‘Ugh, not that again.’_ Ann thought when she moved to LA, all the new people she’d meet would see her as a fellow grown-up, but sometimes things like that still occurred. She had a cool job, her own studio apartment and was 19. What was with this ‘cute’ stuff people kept referring to her as? Then again Tiger Beat isn’t exactly the most mature position…

She then chose to stroll around the house for a better view of the setting. Bert clearly made use of his privilege, not only from his hit sitcom, but also being the son of a movie studio head. It was sophisticated, but not excessive. She dug the rainbow shaped pool and the jacuzzi in the shape of a cloud in the backyard. On her way to the kitchen, she bumped into Monkee Mike and his wife Phyllis. The guitar player was dressed as Jimmy Stewart’s character in the western **Winchester ‘73** and his wife as Shelley Winters’ sultry saloon singer of the same movie. 

“Very convincing, Ann,” Mike said dryly. “For a minute I was going to give Bert a hard time for calling in the maid on a Saturday.”

Ann didn’t bother to hide how unamused she was at his comment. “Think more fairytale.”

“Oh, don’t tell me, I know this!” Phyllis exclaimed. Ann’s eyebrows perked up. “You’re…Snow White when she sings ‘I’m Wishing’?” She asked with a big smile.

“Well…close! Cinderella before the ball…” Ann said slightly disappointed.

“You could’ve at least worn the black choker,” Mike suggested passively. Ann wasn’t amused, but she was a little impressed he apparently remembered the princess’ neckwear. Mike was the one person on the Monkees’ TV set she just could not figure out. Peter and Micky had warned her that he wasn’t interested in giving the press any of his attention, which she somewhat could understand. Especially when the questions she was asking were things like ‘Do you like curly hair as much as straight?’ or ‘What’s your favorite pizza?’ But sometimes it felt like he had it out to make sure he left her at a loss. The irony is that before she started trying to get stories out of him, she might have considered him the best looking Monkee. Actually, if you asked her her opinion on that now, she’d probably say—

“Hey, hey, Ann!”

The blonde turned around to find the bass player of the Monkees, Peter walking up to her with a friendly smile. He was dressed up as Harpo Marx, with the obligatory oversized raincoat, ratty top hat and a loose tie. Ann liked how he went through the effort to perm his hair rather than find a curly wig. She smiled back as he stepped a couple of feet before her, in thought for a moment. 

“…Cinderella?”

Ann’s face lit up. “Yes! Oh my God, Peter, you’re the only one who’s gotten it so far,” she stated in amazement. 

He tilted his head with a cartoony, proud expression. “It’s my little cousin’s favorite movie,” he informed back to smiling. “Hey, you even got the same bangs as her!” Ann freely giggled at him getting the reference to her costume right away. Unlike Mike, Peter was the friendliest and cordial of the group in her short experience. He would even be the one to greet her or start the conversation often, which wasn’t the case with a lot of popstars she worked with. 

Ten minutes later Ann was in line at the make-do mini-bar in the corner of the living room with a hired bartender for the night. Right as she stepped up to the counter to ask his opinion on what to order, she saw a hand wave above her head.

“Oh wait, Rick, this one’s underage. Just make her a cherry cola.”

Hardly a second after Bert interrupted her order and he was already gone. Ann stood dumbfounded and in resentment. _‘What the hell?!’_ She wasn’t expecting any kind of carding tonight. Partly because the couple of college parties she attended back home didn’t care to check ages, and particularly Bert and his producing partner Bob Rafelson were all about the new radical counterculture breaking through. Who cares if a 19-year-old drinks?

“Do I look my age?”

Ann asked while currently lounging next to Micky on the outside patio.

“I’m…not sure how to answer that, honestly…” He responded cautiously.

Ann leaned against the door entrance sulking. As she looked back into the house at the current attendees, she noticed a celeb couple she recognized as Terry Melcher and Candice Bergen had arrived, along with Mike’s musician friends Bill Chadwick and Michael Martin Murphey. 

“Aren’t you 20? Why are you wondering about your age?”

Micky broke her out of her people watching. She held an impressed look at him insinuating she was a year older and wandered back inside. She noticed the soda Bert had made for her was still sitting on the bar counter. When she turned around, she found Phyllis in front of her.

“Ann, you have to tell me who does your bangs. They’re so adorable,” she claimed cheerfully.

“Oh…I just go to this salon on Fairfax…it’s not high-end or anything though…” Ann warily replied, knowing the Nesmiths lived in the nicest house out of the band members.

“Oh, that’s fine. I switch up stylists sometimes too,” she said before taking a sip of her wine.

Ann nodded docilly. “Do you and Mike live close?...” She asked, aware that the couple were Bel Air locals along with Bert.

“Oh, we’re just a couple of streets over. We really could have walked, but you know, Mike likes to show off his Riviera.” 

Ann nodded again, even though she didn’t actually know that since he went out of his way to ignore her. 

A minute later she sauntered through the living room and noticed Davy at the bar. She smirked, assuming he’d get the same treatment she did. Only the bartender handed him a Budweiser like it was nothing. And then the popstar greeted Bob and Bert as he left, with no objections from either. Ann’s face showed frustration as the showrunners noticed her.

“You know, Annie. You’re cute either way, but that frown isn’t very festive,” Bob claimed.

“Did you all forget Davy’s underage too? Why does he get a beer and not me?” She countered in irritation.

The friends each let out a chuckle at her argument. “Davy’s birthday is in two months. You’re turning 21 in two years,” Bert explained.

“A year and a half,” she abruptly corrected.

“Plus they start drinking hard liquor in Europe at 15 anyway.”

“So you’d still let the bartender serve him even if we were the same age? That’s…sexist!” Ann weakly accused.

Bert lifted his hand in faux-surrender. “Please, don’t tell Angela Davis on me,” he joked with a smirk. “But seriously, Ann, everyone in town’s still on edge since Pandora’s Box got busted over summer. We’re just being precautious for a while,” he claimed before walking out of the room with Bob.

Ann stood disgruntled at the conversation and reasoning.

“You want a beer?”

She heard Peter’s voice beside her suddenly, asking almost like an offer. “Oh, not really…I don’t like the smell…But that looks good,” she proposed pointing to a pink drink a tall lady in a vampire costume was consuming.

“Stay here,” Peter said before heading up to the bar. Ann waited patiently, feeling a little relieved someone was on her side again.

“You know, for a warning, the more putout you act, the more juvenile you come across,” Mike’s voice said behind her. She turned to look up at him, still as unimpressed with him as she was earlier in the evening.

“Thanks,” she said shortly.

“Just sayin’,” he added with a swig of his beer.

Ann faced him. “Considering your working relationship with your music supervisor, I’d say you know a lot about elders not respecting you…”

He shook his head casually. “Nah. There’s a difference between work respect and social respect.”

Ann rolled her eyes.

“That’ll occur to you when you’re older.”

That set her off. “You’re only four years ol—”

“Hey, Mike. Give her a break, she doesn’t even have her camera tonight,” Peter returned with a pink drink in one hand and a beer in the other. After he passed the first drink to Ann, he grabbed her empty hand and headed to the couch. The two sat down as Peter partook from his beer bottle. 

“God, why is he such a jackass,” Ann rhetorically asked while situating herself on the seat.

“It’s a Monkee mystery!” He joked with a put-on voice. “To be frank, I’m a little surprised he’s still going this hard after hours…But I guess that shows how good you are at your job,” he ended optimistically.

Ann let out an agitated moan, then took a tester of her new drink. She instantly grimaced at how tart it tasted.

“Oh no, that’s not what we want!” Peter exclaimed disappointed. Ann tried not to look annoyed at her own reaction to the liquid. “Let’s try again,” he said before jumping up to get another drink. When he came back, the new cup held a white, foamy blend that looked tasty. But then she had the opposite problem of the alcohol being too strong. The auburn-haired musician tried three more options before she held up a hand at him grabbing a glass of red wine. 

“Peter, I appreciate the effort, but now I think I’m getting buzzed from all of the testing…”

He laughed a little. “Cute,” he stated before gulping the last of his beer. 

Ann wasn’t amused at the comment and added, “Well I did drive myself tonight, so…” She then wondered how he appeared to handle drinking better than her, as his persona didn’t seem to change after three beers.

“Ah, see, I knew you were more responsible than the rest of us goofballs off set too!” he proclaimed sunnily. Ann instinctively smiled at that. He always seemed to be able to lighten the mood instantly. _‘How does he do that?’_ She wondered. 

Ann ultimately spent the rest of the party around Peter chatting on the couch or dancing to the record player and radio by the living room window. At one point, Micky, his date Roxanne, and Valerie—the latter two whom Ann recognized as extras from the TV set—danced with them to the Trashmen’s ‘Surfin’ Bird;’ with Micky doing a humorous impression of the lead singer. Phyllis tried to convince Mike to move to the dance floor when Petula Clark’s ‘Downtown’ came on, but he wouldn’t budge. Eventually she got a dance out of Davy. Ann wasn’t surprised Mike didn’t dance for fun since he basically stood like a tree during shows and tapings. By the time the night was winding down, it was 12:35 AM, and Peter and Ann were leaving at the same time. Peter leisurely strolled with his top hat under his arm and his Harpo curls now relaxed down to a wavy shape. Ann’s hair was now messy from all the dancing, but in a more charmingly way than unflattering.

“First Hollywood party?” He asked with a small, sleepy smile.

“Oh, no…well, sort of. I’ve been to event ‘parties’ with celebrities, but this was the first house party I got invited to…” She explained.

“Ah,” he gave a slight nod. “Not to toot my own horn, but I can throw pretty fun parties myself.”

“Oh, really?” Ann asked interested.

“Yeah, but they can go a little late…can you handle all-nighters?”

She played with her hair for a second. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe—”

“I’m just kidding.” He nudged her arm. “Oh, and you’ll get to meet Leah at the next one we throw.”

“Leah?”

“My girlfriend. Well, she moved out in August, but we decided to try again a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh…”

“You know, just taking it easy with dates once in a while. You know the Mamas & the Papas?”

“Of course!” Ann responded with a smile.

“Cass is Leah’s sister,” he revealed.

“Oh, wow…” she lingered amazed, but also tired.

“She couldn’t be here tonight because she tagged along on their tour. Well, ‘tour,’” he added the last word with an emphasis. “The group only ever play the west coast.”

Ann nodded casually at his comments.

“Your boyfriend do anything cool?”

She hesitated for a moment. “I’m…not dating anyone right now…”

Peter looked surprised. “For real? But you’re so pretty. And you have that groovy magazine job.”

Ann could feel her cheeks heat momentarily. “Thanks…You know, Micky asked for my number when I first met you guys…But then I never heard from him.” 

He let out a light chuckle. “Don’t worry about it. He does that on reflex.”

She nodded again while grabbing her car key from her bag. When she went to turn on the street to her black Ford Mustang, she realized he was going the opposite direction. “Oh, my car’s on the left…”

“Ah, mine’s on the right,” he said while pointing to a red Pontiac.

“Well…’night…” Ann started to end.

“See you on set—and keep your calendar open! I’ll give you a training course with my PHD in fun.” Peter called back with a smile.

“Okay!” She replied just as giddy.


End file.
